Behind Closed Doors
by SpeakingOfInfinity
Summary: The enemy could silence my breathing at any given moment, and I'd let her take my breath away. The same toxic eyes that directed daggers at me were the ones that suppressed my sense of danger. Emily/Alison
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea has been in my head forever and I just had to give it a shot. Starts off slow and there will be a lot of unanswered questions in the beginning, but I promise it will all come together in the end. Emily and Alison's relationship may take a while to develop, but I think you'll love to see the way it all unfolds. Bare with me.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Fear can take advantage of you in the most twisted ways, blurring your vision, leading you down all the wrong paths, and the part that's most terrifying is when you've grown so accustomed to it that it actually gives you a false sense of security. You're always open minded, as optimistic as you are, but that one simple word can change everything you thought you believed in into something revolting. It can cause you to lose control of the truth, and start desperately grasping onto the lies for dear life. Fear, at its extreme, is when your own nightmare becomes your reality.

Suddenly, oxygen was a foreign word that my lungs could no longer fathom. I gasped for air, as if it were the first breath I had ever inhaled, and my eyes were almost struggling to make sense of the world around me. They shot open anxiously only to reveal darkness while I managed to grasp the first thing I could feel with my hands. A sickening taste invaded my mouth and a sharp realization washed over me, disturbingly obvious. I had awakened into unfamiliar surroundings, enough to cause a state of panic in itself, but that wasn't all that was unfamiliar.

I couldn't remember. Not today, not yesterday, not a week ago or a year ago. My own name seemed so distant, like it was locked away in a period of time that was supposed to be forgotten. But there had been a mistake, it seemed, and somebody remembered. Somebody knew more about me than I could ever imagine, but I had much more to be terrified of than them.

Overall, I was petrified of me and all the aspects that suddenly seemed capable of something dangerous. What if the confusion I was suffering from had nothing to do with anyone else at all? What if I brought it upon myself? Regardless, there was only one concrete thought that kept running through my mind, flashing in enormous bold print. _I was never supposed to wake up._

I forbid myself to scream or cry, even though sound would not force its way out of my mouth if I attempted. I was numb, maybe emotionally, maybe physically, maybe both. The only way this feeling of helplessness would leave me alone is if I got the answers I needed to maintain my sanity. And I was ready, at least halfheartedly, to search for a light switch. Thinking, after all, was only encouraging every bone in my body to worry.

Slowly, I lifted myself up from what I could only assume was a bed, but even something as simple as moving was a complete challenge. I ached, every inch of me, and it became clear that I had been laying in this position for god knows how long. My muscles clinched and groaned, struggling to carry out their duties.

Finally, I was standing upright, and a sensation of nausea hit me like a wave. With that came lightheadedness, so instinctively I extended my arms in search for anything to keep me from falling. They hit a hard surface, a wall, and I paused briefly to regain strength. After a couple seconds, I mustered up the courage to run my fingers across it, though shakily and unsteadily. It felt cool and smooth to the touch, I observed, continuing to move my hands upward until a metal string of some kind touched my palm. I got a firm hold on it and pulled it hard, wincing at the instant illumination of the room that nearly blinded me. Colored spots clouded my eyes and I had to blink a handful of times to get them to disappear before nervously taking in the sight in front of me.

It was a closet, one just small enough to fit the cot in which I'd laid on. There was a single light overhead, the one I'd turned on, and a rusty doorknob just to the right of it. The tiny room was vacant, untouched, dusty even. It was so far fetched from giving me the relief I wanted. The wallpaper was an eerie gray and was beginning to peel in multiple areas, indicating its old age. Nothing about this was normal.

Out of the corner of my eye, as if on cue, something caught my interest. A single sheet of paper, folded so crisply as if it had been placed there recently, contradicting the rest of the room, was lying on the floor beside the door. I bent uncertainly to pick it up, again nearly loosing my footing as my body feverishly tried to catch up to current speed. I stared at it, opening it with caution, squinting my eyes in a frenzy to recognize the chilling handwriting that so neatly fit inside the lines on the page.

"_Emily_

_ 201 Graden Street_

_Don't ask questions. Don't let anyone see you. Get out as quickly as you can_,"

A shiver snaked down my spine, and my insides turned to stone as I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together that just wouldn't fit. Who is Emily, and is 201 Graden Street the writer's address? As if it were possible, I became even more bewildered, shoving the note into a jean pocket that I wasn't aware I had.

Frantically, I felt inside the other pocket to find it already occupied. Inside it was a key, more specifically a car key, which was presumably my way out. I gripped it between my thumb and forefinger and boldly turned to the doorknob, daring to see what lied behind the other side of it. It turned too quickly for my liking, and for the first time since I woke up, I gasped.

I stepped out into the larger room, which appeared to be abandoned also. It was a hospital, judging by the various unused machines lining the floor and the outlets in the wall for them to be plugged into. In the corner was a sink, visible through half closed curtains, and on the opposite wall was a bed. The fact that I wasn't put there instead was enough to spark my deepest suspicion. Yet I was only just barely scratching the surface of my own mystery.

Gradually, I made my way across the room, though fragile and weak, and obviously in no condition to be walking. A different kind of pain started to set in, one that coursed through my stomach mercilessly, and I felt the pangs of hunger eat at me as if I were on the verge of starvation. The thirst I felt was near unbearable while I pressed forward, stopping to gawk at something on the back of the door.

A mirror hung there, an object which should have never been alarming, but for the first time, I saw myself. I saw my naturally tanned skin tone and my deep chocolate eyes, with bags under them that were nearly purple. I saw my dark unbrushed hair and my ripped blue jeans and t-shirt. Gravely underweight was an understatement. _I looked equally as dead as I looked alive._

For a while, the earth seemed to stop spinning and I just stared. I don't know how long I stood there wondering if I had features like my father or my mother most, or what they were like and if they knew where I was. I felt useless, a girl reborn into her own life with no clue as to where she belonged. I didn't know where home was just like I didn't know my age or my friends. Basic knowledge seemed unattainable, cruel even. And I was suddenly exceedingly jealous of anyone who knew their own identity like the back of their hand.

Quite literally, standing here, I was alone, which made it impossible to shake the feeling that once I left this hospital the situation would be any different. My mind came to a halt and I knew that I had let its curiosity entice me for far too long. The orders I had been given were strict, and even if I knew nothing of the person giving them it was the only lead I'd get. I had no choice but to obey. I cracked the door and peered outside, scanning the area to plot my escape.

The rest of the hospital appeared fairly new, strangely, with lively decorations and a couple nurses at the end of the hall holding their clipboards engaged in playful conversation. Paintings including of a range of landscapes and flowers lined the vibrant walls, and the room numbers of each patient were engraved orderly on the doors.

Soundlessly, I stepped out and got a quick glance at my own number before making my way to the elevator beside the staircase at the end of the hall. _106_, I repeated over and over so it would stick in my brain. I ducked my head and kept my eyes focused on the floor as I walked, making sure not to attract any attention. I pressed the button on the wall to call the elevator, and as I darted in I let out a breath I had no idea I'd been holding in.

The panel indicating the floor I was on was lit up at 3, so I quickly pushed 1, anxiously hoping there would be no stops to make on the way. I should have taken the staircase, I thought, paranoid. Rational thinking was far out of my league right now, however, and the faster I could leave, the better. A soft ding filled my ears as the elevator came to a stop, allowing me access to the final floor I'd have to face.

I dodged wandering eyes and forced my feet to carry me on through the crowded environment. A set of revolving doors came into my vision as I passed a young couple in their 20s talking heatedly about a sick relative. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed a gift shop to my right, in which appeared to be just opening for the day. A few children around 6 or so gazed at the stuffed animals inside, tugging on their parents' hands with pouting faces and begging for the teddy bears they just couldn't imagine themselves not having. To the left was a counter that a salty haired man sat behind, running his fingers over the keyboard to the computer on the desk.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed that the waiting line to be assisted by him hadn't formed yet.

Cautiously, I approached the desk and stood awkwardly waiting for him to notice me. Without even looking up from the computer, he asked in a recited tone, "How may I help you?"

I cleared my throat, trying to find the will within me to speak. "I need to know if there was a patient in room 106 who went by the name Emily." My words came out strained and uneven, trying to mask the fact that I was startled at hearing my voice for the first time.

"Hold on, let me check the records." He answered in a oblivious monotone, typing away on the computer again. The screen reflected in his glasses as he scrolled, squinting at the words on the screen. It felt like centuries before he looked up at me warily. "Room 106 hasn't been occupied for 2 years. Emily was the last patient there before she passed."

My eyes widened and my lip trembled. Suddenly I felt the need to grasp onto the desk for stability, but I held back. _Before she passed._ It was as though every new piece of information just led to a bigger tangled web, a more complex secret with no easy intention of revealing itself. So who am I? I racked my brain furiously, only to come back to the same burning question time and time again. The note I had been given seemed like it weighed 100 pounds in my pocket all at once. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew.

"How old was she?" I questioned, my voice more composed than before.

"Fifteen," He eyed me with a sudden interest. "Were you a friend of hers?"

I nodded instinctively, only so he wouldn't question me further. It all made sense in some distorted, distant logic. _"Don't ask questions. Don't let anyone see you. Get out as quickly as you can,"_ was what I had been advised word for word. And I was almost certain of the reason why. _I'm Emily._

* * *

**A/N: Couldn't resist ending the first chapter with a cliffhanger. ;) No Emison yet, but don't worry, it's coming. Who do you think left Emily a note? Why do you think she can't remember anything? Leave a review and tell me your thoughts/suggestions.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Be on the lookout for context clues. They'll be your best friend. Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed, your encouragement means so much. I really didn't expect to get that great of a reaction on the first chapter. It's definitely motivation to continue with the story.**

* * *

******Chapter 2**

I turned away without warning, without looking back at the man at the desk or at anything else in the room. Nothing mattered, that is, with one exception. I had to get out.

My eyes locked and focused on their target, the exit. In a daze, I sped towards the main entrance doors, my surroundings becoming a complete blur. Time shifted and suddenly I was collecting every once of strength possible to push my way outside.

A harsh beam of sunlight enveloped me and I groaned, squinting at its intensity. My sight recovered at a tormenting rate, taking much longer than before, but as it did I found myself fascinated by the simplistic beauty of the environment. I took note of the mild spring air, the slight breeze, and the cloudless sky in absolute amazement, almost overcome with an instant sadness that I had missed out on all of these things. Things that I inevitably used to take advantage of.

The parking lot was only half full, which soothed my nerves somewhat. This of course aroused another problem, one that I should've considered before. Yes, I have the key to a car, but which one does it belong to? And what if that car isn't even _here_?

I reached down and pulled the key from my pocket, pressing the unlock button on the keypad attached to it several times. I crossed the pavement as the flashing headlights and alarm sound revealed the mystery automobile I was looking for.

Jogging over to the driver's side, I took in the vehicle in front of me. It was nothing special, a casual black Ford truck, but just nice enough to catch my attention. I hesitantly opened the door, grabbing onto the handle above me near the window to steady myself, and plopped down into the leather seat.

I sniffed at the scent of faint perfume, which probably should have reminded me of something, but it didn't. I glanced around attentively at the objects inside the passenger seat. A green jacket was laying there, as well as a couple CDs and old gum wrappers. It was strange that it seemed like all of this was left untouched, as if it had been there for a long time.

A layer of dust covered the dash, confirming my beliefs. Intrigued, I grabbed a CD and read over the label. _"Songs we love"_ was written in bubbly letters and I almost smiled at the vision I got of two people singing loudly and horribly to their favorite songs with the windows rolled down. I didn't know what was sadder, the fact that it was only a vision, or the fact that I had to wonder if that ever really happened to me.

I laid the CD back where I found it once I realized that music wouldn't miraculously change that. One step at a time, I thought to myself. I was so easily overwhelmed and so vulnerable at this point. You could tell me I was a unicorn right now and I'd fully agree.

A moment of bravery later and I stuck the key into the ignition. I sucked in a deep breath and shifted from neutral to reverse, praying that this would all come naturally and I wouldn't just end up right back in the hospital I was leaving. I backed out arguably slower than a sloth, taking extra precautions to make sure I wasn't about to run somebody over. _God, with my luck, it didn't even seem like a joke._

I started to change the gear to drive when I noticed the navigation touch screen light up. An automated voice filled my ears, belting out driving directions as a map appeared on the screen. I stared at it, baffled, as the destination came into view before me. It was the same address that was written in the note. Part of me was relieved at this anonymous act of generosity, but part of me was terrified. Now, I didn't have to find this street on my own, but at the same time, I shuddered at the fact that somebody had deliberately planned this out for me.

Somebody had been sitting in the same seat that I was maybe just mere hours ago and programmed this route into the system. I sat up even straighter in my seat, becoming more on edge. My nerves were far past shot, to say the least. I pulled out of the lot onto the highway, procrastinating for as long as possible to catch up speed. Where I was going was only 15 minutes away, according to the navigation, even though the drive there would more than likely feel like hours. The automated voice spoke up again, instructing me to turn, and I complied. From the window, lush green grass was visible, surrounding chic clothing stores and restaurants, and pine trees decorated the yards of cozy, modern homes.

It all whizzed by before I had the chance to absorb it all, leaving me tapping my fingers on the steering wheel just so I could hear something other than the sound of me breathing too quickly to be normal. I'd bet everything I have that staying alive is the least of the average teenager's worries right now, but everything I have is nothing. Maybe, one day, I'd be average. That is, if you can define average as looking over your shoulder every 2 seconds to make sure no one is trying to assassinate you.

I rolled to a stop at a red light, taking the time to find comfort in the fact that I would be arriving at wherever this was soon. I directed my attention to the left side mirror, glimpsing at all the faces occupying the cars behind me. A woman with red hair in her mid 50s appeared to be having an argument with someone over the phone, shaking her head and closing her eyes, running her hands over her face. Her husband sat beside her, presumably used to this behavior, and took a bite of his Subway sandwich while readjusting his glasses.

The person sitting in the driver's seat of the vehicle behind them, however, was the one I realized I had noticed too many times. The same red Pontiac had accompanied me at the last stoplight, and now that I think of it, the last turn, too. I strained to see behind the tinted glass, and what I saw caught me off guard in more ways than one.

It's the way she's looking at me. A pair of cerulean eyes pierced mine, returning my stare, and I had a feeling they had been looking in my direction for longer than I had been looking in hers. Her blonde hair was curled, her expression cold and hard. Her facial features were striking, no doubt, with predominant check bones and perfect heart shaped lips. Whatever she was thinking about, it was intense, and it didn't seem like she intended on dropping it. _Just like she didn't drop her glower._

I flinched and averted my eyes hastily, the tension like needles pricking my skin through the thick air. The light shifted back to green and I practically floored the gas with a powerful intuition to leave the area. I could have been overreacting, I thought, my adrenaline had been pumping full fledge ever since I woke up alone. But coincidences don't leave your stomach tied in knots, meaning that she passed casually cruising 6 blocks ago.

I wanted a confirmation, I wanted to throw her off. If I made a couple wrong turns at random and she was still following me, I'd know. Venturing off course, however, was just asking for more trouble. It would be so easy to lose my way in this city when I have absolutely no knowledge of how to get around.

So I stuck to the plan. As I turned onto the last and final road, she must have decided that she felt sympathy and decided to show me mercy. I eased into the driveway at 201 Graden Street as the navigation pinged for the last time, sitting in deafening silence, waiting. She passed me by, by some gift of god, and continued on. When she was completely out of sight, I let out a tense, deep breath and deemed it safe enough to get out of the truck.

It was in that moment that I finally had a chance to look at the small house in front of me. It was modern and simple like the vehicle, inviting even. I liked it, despite the slightly untrimmed lawn and the ordinary flaws here and there, it represented that beauty is made of imperfections. It's just a matter of looking past them and seeing the potential versus having a negative outlook.

I didn't know myself at all, all I knew was that I wanted to know, and that was the scariest part of it all. But I think I could've seen myself living here in the past, even if I hadn't. There was only one way to find out.

I made my way to the front door, straightening my shirt self consciously before turning the knob. It was already unlocked, as I figured it would be. I stepped inside, making sure to lock it behind me, my eyes hovering over the room.

It appeared as though somebody lived here, and I almost felt disrespectful for barging in. The only lights on were lamps, which seemed appropriate since it was approaching late evening. I passed the living room, noticing 2 couches and a TV with the volume muted. Everything matched nicely, the colors of the wall coordinating well with the furniture and floor. The only thing I didn't understand was the lack of pictures on the walls, or on the tabletops, even. I didn't think it was possible for a home not to have _any_.

I went from room to room observing, checking for any clue as to why I was supposed to be here. I pulled the note out of my pocket once more, reading over it again to assure myself that I was at the right place. I was. There had to be something.

A dresser in the corner of an average bedroom attracted my interest, so I moved towards it, unsure of what exactly I was expecting to find. I started with the first drawer on the left side, opening it leisurely to examine the contents within.

I skimmed through blank sheets of paper, empty picture frames and phone chargers like they were going to disappear, all to no avail. That was just the top layer, there was so much more to be looked through underneath, but something in my gut gave me the instinct that everything I wanted to find was hidden. Purposely.

I dug deeper and extended my hand towards what seemed to be an old, unused cell phone. It was a pink Razor, flipping open to reveal a keypad that required you to press a single button multiple times just to type the letter you needed. Above that was a small screen, which I scrutinized to figure out to get the device to power on.

I blinked, and abruptly, all the lights were _on_. I jolted forward, tossing the phone back where I'd found it, slamming the drawer in an instantaneous fear. I blinked again, and just like that, all the lights were_ off_. Even the lamps.

Hastily, I pushed my back up against the dresser in a protective manner, trying my best to maintain completely silent. My palms were sweaty as I rubbed them together, straining to hear even the slightest movement amongst the house.

For a millisecond, I thought I heard something. As light as a feather, but lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting for its chance to pounce. And then, there was nothing at all, silence again. It was just a creaky floorboard.

Oh, how I wished it was.

A single pair of hands emerged from nowhere and everywhere, tightly covering my mouth before I had a chance to call out. I struggled against them, frantically trying to remove them, held against my will.

A feminine voice emerged amidst the shuffle, low and demanding. "Don't scream," She advised, "Nobody's gonna come running to your rescue."

She loosened her grip ever so faintly as a tiny sliver of light snaked its way up to her face, tattle telling her identity. Those cerulean eyes were back. And this time, there was no escaping them.

* * *

** A/N: So who is the mystery girl at the end? Does she have any connection to Emily or the house? Tell me what you guys are thinking in the review section.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter contains sass, which I think you guys will enjoy. Also, it's the first chapter with a lot of dialogue, and really the beginning of Emily's journey with the introduction of a new character.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

I fought for my freedom, shoving myself away from her and curling up on the floor in an almost fetal position. She looked at me incredulously, like I was a weak Chihuahua and she was an aggressive Pit bull. I was terrified to blink, let alone move a single muscle. There's more to her than meets the eye, judging by the way she walks as though she defies gravity. Without a shadow of a doubt, she's capable of something disturbingly dangerous.

"Relax," She started, squatting down to meet my level, as if she were challenging me. "From now on, I run the show around here. All you have to do is follow the rules." She got noticeably closer then, her eyes searching mine for any sign of disobedience. They radiated curiosity, dominance even, as she tried to cross the oceans in my mind. In that case, she'd drown before she even set sail.

"You think you can do that, _Emily_?" She leaned in so that her lips brushed against my ear, her sinister voice causing me an unexplainable emotional pain. I gasped involuntarily, failing to maintain a tough composure, barely breathing as the poison radiating from her body threatened to take over me. She knew my name.

"What do you want from me?" I questioned desperately in a hoarse tone, wishing that she'd just get this over with. The torture was exhausting, I'd had enough to last me months. Quite frankly, if I had known the hassle that this was going to cause, I would've dug my own grave before she got this chance to explore the idea of keeping me hostage. If she wanted me dead, why didn't she go ahead and aim her weapons?

"Remember who you're talking to." She snapped, her voice rising and falling with every word as she leaned back to face me again, sharply narrowing her eyes. You know what they say, you should never fight fire with fire. But she had a life of her own, she shouldn't feel the need to take ownership of mine.

"And who exactly _am_ I talking to?" I charged back, my blood simmering. Her eyes noticeably darkened, and at once she pushed herself off the floor, stomping through the darkness. The lights flicked on again and for the first time, I got a crystal clear, nearly high definition picture. She stood with her arms crossed, her nostrils flaring, in her high heels and yellow blouse.

There was a momentary pause in our heated conversation as we better took in the sight of each other. I watched her chest move rapidly with anger, she watched me straighten my back with uncertainty. For a moment, her expression was verging vulnerable, the inner part of her trying to shatter the outer shell. But as quickly as I'd noticed, it vanished, the light adjustment playing wicked tricks on my novice mind.

She didn't have a bone in her body capable of feeling remorse, she was only playing a game with me. So I swore to myself that it was time for war, the aggressive side I've never seen of me becoming useful in order to tear her guarded walls down. Somewhere deep, deep down, we had one thing in common. Neither of us would give in.

"Alison." She finally announced without moving from her place. I didn't even have to make a mental note to remember her name. _She had a twisted way of making a first impression._

"You sent me the note, didn't you?" I clarified, my mind racing far too fast to process all of its thoughts. She nodded, as though she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Such a bitch.

"Took you long enough." She half smirked, turning on the ball of her feet to exit the room. Before I even had the chance to protest, she left, only to return moments later carrying 2 small containers in each of her hands and a water bottle tucked under her forearm.

I eyed the items skeptically before she tossed them in my direction.

"Eat something. You're giving me anxiety." She commanded, the irony in her last statement beyond powerful. I'm giving _her_ anxiety?  
I read the labels on each of the boxes to see what I had been given, doubting her sudden concern. As much as I wanted to object, I couldn't turn down _Pop-tarts_ and _Cheez-Its_. If she had spiked the food, at this point, I'd take the consequences.

I eagerly tore them open, my mouth watering in anticipation, practically devouring the contents in each. With all I had to worry about, I had completely adapted to the hunger I had been feeling for hours, learning to ignore it. In all honestly, if she hadn't interfered, I would've forgotten about such a basic human necessity.

"Why?" I glanced up at Alison while finishing off the last bite of my third blueberry pastry, refusing to let the topic from before slide. I wanted answers. And I knew she had them.

She looked at me in mock confusion, like she had some sort of trick up her sleeve, but then again, that always seemed to apply. She sighed heavily, running her hands through her light hair in frustration. I didn't get this.

"Look, you've been living on IV fluids for the past 2 years, and there were plenty of times when you almost flat lined. I thought you'd be a little more grateful that I took the time to buy groceries for you."

At this, I was taken aback, shaking my head. "You know that's not what I meant." I said, calling her out. She knew what I was referring to. So why was she dodging it? And how did she know the details of how I apparently struggled to stay alive?

She clenched her jaw, stepping forward towards the dresser. It took her a while to gather herself, as if she had to think out what she was going to say carefully before she answered. She motioned me to move aside, which I did, and she opened the drawer at the very bottom right, slowly sifting through it.

After a long intermission, she appeared to have found what she was looking for. I waited, and finally, she spoke up.

"I'm not a friend to you, so get that idea out of your head. But that doesn't mean I don't know people who were." She held up a single picture and I took it from her grasp in a daze, appalled at what I saw.

My mouth slightly opened and my eyebrows scrunched together as I realized that the image I was over analyzing was of me. I, however, wasn't the only person in the photo. Beside me sat 2 brunettes, each with a pair of Gucci shades, mid laughter in their bikinis. They all had their arms around me, as well the blonde smiling happily in between them. It appeared that it was taken on a patio, somewhere near a pool. My eyes darted to Alison and hers seemed ready to spill explanation, as if they could read me like an open book.

"That's Spencer, Aria, and Hanna," She pointed them out, placing a finger on each girl when she said their name. "They were your best friends. Before you ask, they don't know you're alive. Nobody does, except for me."

I stared down at the 4 of us together, side by side, so carefree. Why couldn't it always be that simple? I guess all good things really do come to an end, or at least in my case. I couldn't even remember one conversation with any of them, yet it was obvious that they had meant everything to me.

Her words were like venom, it seemed that the more I knew, the more I didn't want to know. I couldn't just start over, I couldn't just erase the life I had before, because then there would always be a part of me missing. Sure, it would be so much easier, but the easy way out was never the best way to go.

"What happened to me?" I asked at last, the question that had been burning inside my brain, standing out amongst the others.

Alison took the photograph from me, placing it back inside the drawer and shutting it with a calm, patient nature, controlling the conversation at her pace, which was too leisurely for my liking.

"I'd tell you," She met my eyes, a seriousness in her tone, "but where's the fun in that?" I exhaled in annoyance, holding my head in my hands. She removed them from my face, as if to unnerve me. She took a long breath before continuing, making sure she had my full attention, emphasizing her words.

"I might have the information you need, Emily, but so do you. This is something you need to figure out on your own."

My lip quivered as I attempted to understand, an eerie stillness falling over us. I looked straight ahead, at the layout of the room, at the queen sized bed with striped pattern sheets, at the window behind me, catching a glimpse of shrubbery, in hopes that they'd assist me in making sense of this.

Neither of us moved as I was heavy in thought, though no resolution came. I felt like there were wounds covering my entire body that I couldn't patch up, because they were so much deeper than a Band-Aid. They'd have to be stitched, and they'd take forever to heal, if ever. They weren't physically visible, but if you looked hard enough, they were there, on the inside.

The girl with cerulean eyes, whom I had talked with for nearly an hour, rose from her previous position on the ground. She had managed to brush herself off and walk away from this without a scratch, knowing everything there was to know about me already, way before this meeting even occurred. What did I know about her? Nothing, aside from her name.

I wondered if she practiced this, I knew that she had meant for it to be this way. It seemed to come so naturally, her superiority, a quality that inevitably earned her whatever she wanted by manipulation.

I followed her to the front door, where she stopped and turned to face me.

"Where are you going?" I interrogated, refusing to let her slip away again without the truth. She let out a short, humorless laugh, cracking the door open.

"Home. And don't think you have free range now just because I'm gone. I'll be coming back whenever I want, and you're not allowed to leave." She informed me, on the brink of daring me to contend. I bit down hard on the side of my cheek, and once she was satisfied with my reaction, she strutted outside, closing the door.

I opened it again, yelling after her with one last thing to ask. She stopped walking, but didn't turn around.

"Where's home for me?" Was what I heard come out of my mouth, sounding more pathetic than I meant for it to. At this, she continued walking again until she reached her car, then went on to open the driver's door and crawled inside.

I heard her start the engine, and just when I thought she was going to drive off with my question hanging unanswered, she rolled down the window.

"You're standing in it. And next time, if you're trying to lock me out, you should know that there's a back door too."

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, what are Alison's intentions? Can she be trusted? I want to hear your lovely opinions, it's interesting to read them.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. For some reason, this chapter was really difficult to write, I guess because I always have to decide how much I want to reveal. Mystery is a challenging genre, but it's every bit worth the time put into writing it. **

* * *

**Chapter 4**

I shot up gasping, throwing the covers off me in a panic. The idea of peaceful sleep alone was horrifying, but nightmares took it to a whole different level. After all, the last time I was asleep, it could have been just that, _the last time._

Somewhere between exhausting myself mentally after Alison's departure and trying to form thought out theories of my own that made no sense, I surrendered to sleep, allowing my drooping eyelids to close themselves. I could practically hear them thanking me.

Had I known what I would see behind them, however, I would have resorted to anything that could keep me awake even a couple minutes longer. A Red Bull, 5 Hour Energy, whatever it took. But it was just a dream. It didn't mean anything.

I had no sense of time, only that it was moving forward. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed, probably indicating the arrival of a new hour. What seemed like mid-day light streamed through the blinds as I did a double take to make sure that I was seeing it right.

Had I really slept for that long? My gaze wandered to a single item resting on the floor adjacent to the bed. This was what I had managed to find during my little 'scavenger hunt' yesterday. From now on, whenever I had the house to myself, I deemed it as investigation time. It was pretty clear that Alison would merely give me a limited amount of answers, like a teacher during a test. Her assistance only extended so far.

I bent down and seized this object for dear life, the only link I had so far to my past. It was a scrapbook, to be more exact, one that I had examined for hours last night. I had sat with it, numb, pure oceans falling from my eyes at the display of the missing memories. Even with this, I couldn't trigger flashbacks. Movies make it seem so easy. They lie.

Opening it again was like opening floodgates. The pages were somewhat worn, probably with age, and for the second time, I found myself struggling to keep my emotions stable.

Page 1 was the beginning of a timeline filled with pictures of a newborn version of myself. A weak smile crept its way onto my face at the sight of the people who were obviously my mother and father.

She held me in her arms protectively, staring at me in utter amazement, as if nothing could ever compare to me. It wasn't about the pain she endured to bring me into this world. It wasn't about the fatigue. It was about the 2nd half of her she had created. All of these things were so plainly evident at even the sloppiest, quickest glance.

My heart melted into pure lava, which streamed down the side of a metaphorical volcano at the sight of her husband, who was smiling proudly, his hand outstretched to touch my cheek. He mirrored her instant infatuation for me; his sparkling eyes an instant giveaway.

Butterflies invaded my stomach at the absolute beauty, and with that came a new understanding of unconditional love. The camera had captured a moment on the extreme verge of fictional. How had I let this life slip away from me?

My mouth was cotton as I continued flipping through the booklet, my hands trembling. Everything from my birth to my 12th birthday was included, and before I knew it, I was lost in my idea of my picture perfect family. In a way, though, I kind of liked that I didn't remember otherwise. I'd never recall arguments or drama.

On the other hand, I despised it. The captions underneath these sentimental photos might as well be invisible. I can't laugh at the inside comments when I'm on the outside looking in. _Why_ our entire family would take an intense hike up a snow covered mountain wearing sombreros and shorts would always be a question.

Knowing faces and not names was overwhelming. I assumed some of the people I saw standing beside my parents or myself were my cousins, aunts, uncles, or maybe just friends. There was one page in particular in the scrapbook just for what appeared to be a party in someone's backyard.

A lock spun inside my mind until it found the right combination, and suddenly amongst the crowd of adults I recognized the stucco and the landscape of the yard. I stood and made my way towards the back door, which I had only recently discovered, passing the kitchen and stopping in the hallway.

I peered outside almost triumphantly, because for the first time, I was right. This was the same backyard as the one in the photo Alison showed me as well as the exact area the party had taken place. I stepped onto the patio and the sound of music with a Jamaican vibe filled my ears.

As soon as I turned to find the source of it, a blonde looked over her shoulder and gave me my answer. I held in a groan at the sight of Alison lounging carelessly in a fold out chair by the pool, as if she had claimed it before I had.

"_Red, red wine_

_It's up to you_

_All I can do, I've done"_

The lyrics continued smoothly, and I marched over to her, annoyed.

"How long have you been here?" I demanded. She shrugged, still swaying to the song.

"Long enough." I crossed my arms. Unbelievable. There had to be instructions somewhere step by step on how to get rid of her.

Her iPod touch sat idle on the arm of the chair and she readjusted her ponytail, using one hand to turn up the volume on the device. She flattened out her Victoria's Secret sweatpants, then closed her eyes in the heat of the sun.

I impatiently waited for her to realize that I wasn't going anywhere. I was unwilling to oblige with her arrogance, the music filling up the awkward silence there should be between us. It was obvious that she didn't want to be bothered. Whatever.

"_Red, red wine_

_Stay close to me_

_Don't let me be alone"_

In one swift swipe, I stole her iPod away, muting it. She huffed, glaring at me.

"Give it back." Her voice was hostile, as if the tiniest disagreement would set her off the edge. I held the MP3 player just above her head, raising my eyebrows.

"If you want it, you'll tell me everything I need to know." I attempted blackmail, and that was the worst thing I could have done imaginable. Never again.

Her eyes were flames, and she gritted her teeth together. She snatched her beloved electronic back from me, enraged that I would try her. She gripped my arm roughly and yanked me forward, catching me by surprise.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ get brave with me Emily Fields. Humans don't get nine lives."

She held onto me so tightly that she was practically cutting off my circulation. I yelped, and a fake smile spread over her features before she grabbed my shirt and pulled me in.

"Let me tell you a secret," Her voice was indifferent, almost deceivingly seductive. I swallowed. "I can make it look like an accident." She winked innocently, as if flirting with the idea.

Then her entire attitude shifted and she released me, setting me free. She shut her eyes and settled back in her seat comfortably again as if it had never happened, leaving me in a state of pure shock. She patted the empty chair beside her, instructing me to sit as well.

"Ask me anything. I'll answer." When I didn't budge, she rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

"Come on, I don't bite." She coaxed. _Jesus Christ, this girl was unpredictable_.

I sat so hesitantly that it was ridiculous; soundlessly praying that the demonic side of her wouldn't surface ever again.

I crossed my legs with caution, clearing my throat to rid it of the previous tension. I wanted to make sure that when I spoke I was as careful and inoffensive as possible.

My eyes shifted to my feet like a child's did after they were rejected in a candy shop. I thought of what to say, though there was far too much on my mind.

I decided on, "Tell me something about you," which came out sounding at least halfway confident. The look on her face told me that she wasn't expecting me to want to know. Who could blame her?

She sighed, shaking her head. "Well, my last name is DiLaurentis, I've lived here in Rosewood, Pennsylvania all my life, I have one brother, Jason, and if no were an emotion that's the word that would be used to describe how I feel on a daily basis."

The seriousness in her tone sparked laughter from me for the first time. The mood was instantaneously lightened, or so I thought, until she looked at me incredulously. My chuckle faded, and I returned her facial expression.

"What?" I asked, wondering what her problem was this time. She just watched me, intrigued.

"Nothing, I just thought it was impossible for you to laugh." I scoffed.

"We've known each other a day, and besides, I don't find it funny when I'm given ultimatums." Alison snickered, unphased.

"If you know so much about yourself then tell me more." My muscles involuntarily clenched and I ran my tongue across my teeth at how quickly our conversation could change.

"Good one, I didn't laugh." There was a long pause, and all of a sudden, I was reminded of my dream. For a moment, I took it into consideration, especially after today's events.

It was the perfect explanation, and Alison had practically confirmed it herself. I broke our eye contact abruptly, all at once regretting that I'd ever discovered her here in the first place. My theory didn't seem as outrageous as it did earlier.

No, in fact, it seemed dead on.

I flinched, childishly fearing that she had somehow heard my thoughts out loud. I couldn't let her sense that I was afraid. Because then, she'd take advantage, finding strength in my weakness. And that's exactly what she was hoping for.

The air was colder without warning and a gust of wind swept over us, the sky darkening. I took this as an opportunity to go back inside. I couldn't take the stress any longer.

I headed back to the bedroom, picked up the scrapbook, and flipped through it again in search of one picture in particular. When I got to page 6, I was taken aback. It wasn't there.

In a panic, I rescanned the entire book with the hope that it was on a different page. Of course, that wasn't the case. In fact, there were more photos than that one that were missing.

They were all there last night. So that meant that they had to have been taken out while I was sleeping.

Only one thing crossed my mind, because there was only one possibility.

_She didn't want me to find out._

* * *

**A/N: So Emily has some theories of her own now, and they sound pretty intense. What do you think she dreamt about? Let me know what you loved or hated, and where you think this plot could possibly be going. Also, in case anyone wanted to know, the song Alison was listening to is called Red Red Wine by UB40. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is probably my favorite chapter so far. I wanted to switch it up and show the characters from a lighter, more complex perspective. **

**Again, thank you guys so much for giving me your input on this story. It makes me smile. Sometimes your theories help to spark new ideas for future chapters. **

**AsaMoritz, I just wanted to let you know that I am such a big fan of Stolen Sunsets. I've been following your story since before I even started Behind Closed Doors, and it's brilliant, so full of creativity. If you ever publish anything in the future, just let me know and I will be the first one to buy it. Your style of writing is very impressive. Much love.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"GET UP YOU LAZY SHIT, WE'RE GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!"

My pillow had finally felt like a cloud underneath me, only for this feeling of momentary peace to be interrupted by the sound of an entirely too eager voice. I groaned loudly, covering my ears. It had to be around 7 am, and in this moment, I discovered that I was not in fact a morning person.

"Do you realize what time it is?" I started groggily, instantly turned off at the idea of whatever Alison's 'legendary' plans for today were. "This better be life changing or else I'm going back to sleep."

I didn't even have to be facing her, I could practically feel her rolling her eyes. She sprinted across the room and pounced onto the covers, ripping them off of me. Trying to protest was useless. She was already dragging me out of bed with the strength of the incredible Hulk.

"Come on, this is going to be _fun, _I promise. No tricks." She was almost begging me, a sort of excitement in her eyes. I squinted at the idea of that statement actually being truthful. Her definition of fun is probably somewhere along the lines of absolute torture.

I huffed in defeat, though still not entirely buying this. "Fine," I mumbled, and she squealed with enthusiasm, a convincingly genuine grin spreading across the lower half of her face.

With that, I felt her tug my hand and she pulled me to the bathroom, turning on the lights as we rushed inside. I sat on the edge of the tub with anxiety as she opened a cabinet underneath the sink, pulling out 2 different colored wigs. She held them up to me side by side.

"Pick." I gave her the strangest look I could muster. She can't be serious.

"You're insane," I informed her. "There's no way I'm wearing either of those."

I scanned her facial features with the dim hope to find that she was just joking. She pouted, intimating my sour expression.

"Too bad," She threw the blonde one at me. "We can't go to the mall with a dead girl walking around in plain sight. You can either go in disguise with me, or you can sit here alone. Choose wisely, you won't get another opportunity."

I eyed her suspiciously, clutching the wig in my hands. Today she was different, that is, if it wasn't a hoax. I could either take advantage of this, or drive myself insane while she was gone. And as much as it nearly killed me to admit, I didn't want it to be the latter.

I turned towards the mirror, slipping the false hair on and adjusting it so that my natural hair wasn't visible. She appeared behind me, raising her eyebrows in amazement.

"I must say, I'm impressed. I didn't think you would be that easy to convince. Guess you finally decided to bow down to your queen."

She walked past me into the bedroom again, approaching the closet and sifting through the hangers in a haste. I stifled a laugh, watching her in awe. I didn't think I'd ever get used to this new found playful spirit of hers. Maybe it would last.

"Can I ask what you're looking for, your majesty?" I questioned, and she looked over her shoulder with an alluring dress in her hands, holding it triumphantly. Her eyes danced over me, and then they shifted back to what she had picked out. Then at me, then at the dress again.

"Something for you to wear, obviously. You know it's kind of hard to find the perfect outfit when basically everything in your wardrobe dates back to like 200 B.C. That's why we're going shopping today."

Alison made her way towards me, handing me the clothing. There was no doubt about it that she had good taste, this probably would have been one of my first picks. Judging by her personality, she could undoubtedly do this in her sleep. Fashion seemed like it would be right up her alley.

After a quick thank you, I stepped back into the bathroom to change, almost nervous to see myself in something other than just a plain shirt and jeans. For days I had looked like an utter train wreck. The word 'pretty' hadn't yet made an appearance.

When I was finished, I glanced up at the mirror, convinced that the girl I saw staring back at me was someone entirely different. When I tried, I wasn't actually half bad. I cracked the door open, motioning for her to come in and give me her opinion.

Once beside me, her face lit up with approval, her mouth slightly agape. I could bet money right now that her ego had just grown about 10 times bigger. The simplistic peach dress hugged at my body. It was casual, but enough to make an impression. I was never going to hear the end of her bragging.

"You look really nice," She admitted, meeting my eyes. "and if anyone asks. I better get credit for this."

I smiled at her unexpected compliment, realizing that it was the first one I had gotten so far. I wondered if I had just caught her in a rare moment.

She was already fully ready to walk out the door, her makeup blended in a professional fashion, her style on point. She had also straightened her hair today, which was new to me. Even if she pulled it back into a messy bun she would still look ready carpet ready. She didn't have to go out of her way, she was naturally appealing. Effortless.

"Don't worry, I won't steal your spotlight." I assured her. She shook her head, placing a pair of flats in my hands, but said nothing. She opened her mouth as if she had something on her mind, but closed it again, deciding against it.

I slid on the shoes I had been given, which matched my attire nicely. Wearing a wig was still slightly uncomfortable, but she was right. If I went without one and someone recognized me, everything would change. I wasn't ready for that, and I didn't think I'd ever be.

Alison grabbed her car keys off the counter top by the sink, jingling them in her hands. "You ready?" She asked. "I was going to do your makeup but you don't need it. Your skin looks suspiciously clear for someone who was unconscious for months."

I laughed at her feminine instinct to make sure every aspect of us was ready for public view. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror before we left, I nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

She took the driver's side of her Pontiac as I settled in opposite her, moving a few _People_ magazines covering the latest celebrity scandals out of the seat so I could sit. I took note of the luxury, the interior was in mint condition, which was almost obsolete to find with a teenager. Besides the small dent near the air conditioner, it appeared to be brand new. For some reason, I wasn't surprised by the neat upkeep.

As we buckled our seat belts, she rolled down the windows and proceeded to turn the radio up loudly until it was blaring an upbeat rap song. She took 2 identical pairs of black _Raybans _from the center console, handing one to me. As I put them on, I felt like a million dollars. Now I could officially say that today was the first day I had let loose and relaxed.

Before I knew it, in the duration of about 5 minutes we had already arrived. She switched off the engine and stepped out, reminding me not to take my shades off. I walked with her through the parking lot in comfortable silence, admiring the early sunrise and the dew still visible on the grass. There was something so calming about the fact that there were hardy any people here. She had planned this out well.

It was a pretty modern mall, with shops ranging from completely pricy to affordable, like most. As we approached _American Eagle_,Alison jumped up and down with anticipation, running inside and plucking everything she deemed even remotely cute off the racks. I couldn't help but smile as she held an abundance of clothes in her arms, looking at me for approval as I caught up to her to see what she had found.

"How are we going to afford all of this?" I inquired. She placed her hand to her chest dramatically.

"We just got here and you're already doubting me?" She teased. "I always get what I want."

I shook my head at her confidence, wondering how I talked myself into this. "And what about me?"

She eyed the cash register with great interest. "That depends. Do you want these clothes?"

I shrugged, the price tags practically screaming at me. There was no doubt in my mind that the sum of those were at least over $300. And this was just one store.

She sensed my hesitation and skipped over to the cashier to prove me wrong, sticking out her tongue. The total was displayed on a small monitor, amounting to $323.46. She pulled 3 hundred dollar bills out of her purse, as well as a 50 dollar bill, making sure I noticed that she chose to pay in cash. I waited until she received her change and the items were bagged before I acknowledged this.

"Alison, where did you get that money from?" We walked side by side, exiting _American Eagle _to go somewhere different.

I couldn't read her expression. She just looked blankly at the floor, her feet managing to stay in synchronization with mine. She sighed.

"When are you going to stop asking me questions and live in the moment instead?" I folded my arms, regretting that I asked. I didn't want to ruin whatever we had going for us today. There was just one more thing that had been bothering me. Besides, her money was her business. What I wanted to address involved both of us.

"Fine. Then don't be mad at me, because this is the last time I'll annoy you with my interrogations. I'm just curious, why did you take those pictures out of the scrapbook?"

She scrunched her eyebrows together in deep thought as we passed a food stand, the smell of fresh cookies invading my nose. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, and I swear, Alison DiLaurentis almost stuttered. This was the first time I had truly seen her speechless, unaware of what to say.

Finally, after listening to nothing but the sound of how our footsteps rang out through the long hallways and high ceilings, she broke the discomfort.

"Some things are better left unsaid. If you think it has something to do with what happened to you, you're getting colder. Dig deeper, you have to believe me when I say that there's nothing in that photo album relating to what you're looking to find."

When she finished, I realized that she had spoken honestly. It was evident in her tone. But I still didn't understand why she took the pictures. What else was there to hide from me?

She pointed towards _Urban Outfitters_, wanting to change the subject. I nodded and followed her, as if agreeing to let this go for now. She gave me a small smile, signifying our progress. At least, it seemed like progress. If the saying, 'communication is key' is really true, I might end up picking locks.

* * *

**A/N: What did you find suspicious? Would you like to see more chapters like this as opposed to serious ones? Drop a review and tell me what's on your mind.**


End file.
